Everything We Had
by Darken Every Legend
Summary: Rose was the clever one. But Hugo noticed things that no one else did. Like the way his parents always seemed to be arguing… Dramione, angst, generally sad, Hugo-centric...
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! thaliatheawesome here! So, this is my first regular Harry Potter story. I hope you like it? There will probably be two or three chapters… it won't be that long.**

 **I realise this probably won't be everyone's thing, but if it is, that's great.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. At all. Yet. (rubs hands together and does evil grin.)**

 **Hugo**

It all started when they went out for a family dinner when Hugo was eight, and his sister Rose was ten, soon to be starting Hogwarts with Cousin Al, and there were a group of smart-looking people dressed in green and black at the table next to them.

One was a boy about Hugo's own age, with a pointed little chin and sleek blond hair that looked like a ridiculous imitation of the older man next to him- his father, perhaps, Hugo noted, taking in account the woman sitting next to them in a deep green dress with a silver necklace around her throat and a black fur coat resting on the back of her chair.

His own mother glanced over at them, holding up her glass of wizard's wine to take a sip, then pausing with her pupils dilated in shock, hand still in the air, clutching the stem of the glass so tightly in shattered and split deep red liquid all over the pristine tablecloth.

She quickly vanished it with a quick _scourgify,_ and nothing more was said to Hugo or Rose, but Hugo was still innately curious about the family sitting near them, the mere sight of whom had made his mother break a glass.

And why Ron had looked so annoyed at them being there at all.

It was Rose who had inherited their mother's genes.

His sister was the smart one, the person who topped every class in the year. (Well, except Herbology. She was awful at it, but Professor Longbottom was too nice to say so.) She was good at Quidditch. She was pretty, with long hair and sparkling eyes. She was even really nice.

Hugo, however, drew a blank, not showing any signs of great intellectual or physical ability. At eleven, while thirteen-year-old Rose held a massive Christmas party at their house with all her friends from Hogwarts, Hugo went upstairs and lay on his bed thinking until they were gone, although he knew they were all clamouring to see 'Rose's cute little brother.'

It had to be said for Hugo that he noticed things. Hugo was an observer, always had been. Not nosy. Just… someone who saw stuff.

He noticed, when his father's favourite sports broom disappeared, exactly where it was. Behind the garden shed, and no, he had _not_ put it there. (Although he had seen James Potter doing so.)

He noticed when his cousin Victoire started going out with Teddy Lupin for the first time, long before they kissed on the station platform. He was only surprised no one else could tell.

And he noticed something else. When his mother had some kind of work party thing that she needed to take him to, and while she was talking to her friend Padma, the man from the restaurant was standing a few tables away, sipping from a glass of Firewhiskey, looking morose and bitter.

After a while, Hugo's mother asked him to fetch some drinks. He dutifully went and got a glass of Butterbeer and one of lemonade, but when he returned she wasn't standing there any more. Hugo whirled around, some of the lemonade slopping messily over the edge of the plastic cup and dribbling onto his hand, when he finally noticed her. Standing at the other edge of the room, arguing with the man.

Hugo wandered over in surprise, hovering a few metres away from his mother, wondering if he should interrupt with the drink or not, and then they raised their voices and he could hear every word.

"Draco, what in Merlin's name are you trying to imply?"

"That you're being talked about on the streets! That people think you and Ron are unhappy together! People are betting on if you're breaking up!"

Hermione's ears reddened. "Shut up about my marriage! What business is it of yours, anyway?"

"It's the whole damn world's business now! Hermione, everyone knows who you are! Harry Potter's precious little friends, the Golden Girl of Gryffindor and the 'loveable' idiot. You don't understand anything about how this works, because you're Muggle-born! I'm trying to help!"

"You think I need your help? You're an ex-Death Eater! I'm not going to accept anything from you,Ferret _."_

Hugo couldn't see either of their faces, but he could picture them, both equally contorted in anger.

"Well, go to your precious husband, then! Because obviously he's told you _all_ about what's going on."

"How would Ron know? He doesn't hang around with all your drunk and aged pureblood bastard friends!"

"Everyone knows, they just don't want to tell you. You can be quite scary, you know. Now, if you'd stop brandishing that invitation like it could possibly do me any damage…"

"Oh, I'm well aware it's impossible to bruise your precious ego," Hugo's mother retorted, but all the anger had gone from her voice and it had been replaced by sadness and evident confusion. "Draco, is this really happening? How did Ron not tell me?"

"Because," the man – Drake?- said, "I think he's scared."

"Scared of what?" Hermione said, her voice shaking slightly, brown silky hair slightly caught up under the shoulder strap of her dress, face flushed with heat. "Scared of telling me he wants a divorce? What about the kids?"

"Oh, no. He's not scared of that…" the man leant forwards and said quietly, but just loud enough to hear.

"Any rational person would be scared to lose you, Hermione."

Hugo first realised on the train to Hogwarts.

He met up with Albus and Rose and Lily, and a few other Gryffindor people who'd tagged along.

And they'd all been talking quite amiably while Hugo stared out of the window dreamily and ate a Chocolate Frog.

Then the compartment door zoomed open, and a group of kids with ties that had the Hogwarts crest, not a specific house – not yet, anyway – on them, and that was when Hugo first met Scorpius Malfoy.

He looked a lot like his father.

His parents weren't happy.

Hugo could tell that. Oblivious Rose could tell that. Even a stranger could tell that.

Hermione wanted Ron to spend more time at home, and Ron was annoyed at Hermione because he'd heard she was friendly to 'that git Draco' at the party, and Hermione snapped at him and suddenly they would start arguing like there was no tomorrow.

And then they'd both storm off, each equally stubborn, and Hugo would be left to cook for himself that night, because if there was one thing Rose was bad at, it was cooking.

(Which didn't make sense, as she aced Potions.)

But overall, his parents fighting made Hugo unhappy, and a day later Ron would say he was sorry to Hugo and take him out to see a Quidditch game, and Hermione would apologise and look all tearful and have a mother-son night with just the two of them, talking and eating Muggle food and watching old movies on the TV Grandpa Arthur had found and eventually wired.

And Hugo would smile wanly for both of them, and they would ask him what was wrong, but what could he say?

 _I'm scared you're going to split up._

 _I don't want my family falling apart._

 _I miss you._

Nothing really seemed adequate, and if he said what he thought, he knew his father would look embarrassed and upset and rub the tip of his reddening nose, and his mother would get tears in her eyes and her voice would go slightly wobbly however much she tried to hide it by letting her bushy brown hair fall across her face.

In another attempt at awkward reconciliation, his mother insisted on personally driving Hugo and Rose to Diagon Alley, by car, to get their school stuff.

Rose was babbling away excitedly about subjects and whether she'd made the right decisions about the ones she'd cut, and Hugo stared out of the window and noted that there was a cloud that looked like their dining table.

Predictably, as soon as they came out of the Leaky Cauldron and stepped into Flourish and Blotts, Rose was assailed by a crowd of friends and sailed off with an apologetic glance at both Hugo and their crestfallen mother.

So then Hugo and Hermione were left together in awkward silence, and after a few attempts at conversation that Hugo just couldn't seem to be able to think of anything to say to, she glanced at a stand overflowing with books on the 'science of magic' and perused the pages, while Hugo was left leaning against a shelf and attempting to tap out a rhythm with his feet.

He saw a flicker of a familiar blond figure in a window, a glimpse of arrogant features twisted into a look of surprise, but then Hugo blinked and they vanished and he was left wondering if he'd imagined it or not.

Hugo heard the news at school.

When his owl Russet, a present fro his last birthday, arrived with his subscription to the Daily Prophet, the headline was glaringly obvious: _Society Queen Killed In Freak Accident._

And, when he looked down, he read the whole story; how Astoria Malfoy had been killed in the collapse of a wizarding fashion store in Paris, and how the editor 'offered his sincere condolences.'

 _To who?_ Hugo thought. To her friends? To the woman herself? To her family?

Personally, he felt sorry for two people.

His schoolmate Scorpius and his mother's friend Draco.

When Hugo came home that summer, things felt… strange.

His father moved around the house with a morose and angry expression, and Hermione seemed to be attempting to cover something up on her cheek by letting her hair fall across that side of her face in an unusual fashion for her, and Rose just sat in the kitchen and chattered away, not really caring if anyone was listening or not.

Hugo sat by his window imagining he was a bird, wheeling around in the sky, and drew a little picture of the flight path on the roof of his mouth, using just his tongue.

Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny came round for Sunday lunch one day, but everyone was tense the whole way through the meal, and afterwards, when James and Lily and Albus and even Rose went into the garden to play Quidditch, Hugo opted out and sat downstairs by the window feeding Russet owl treats.

Lily had considered sitting with him (she was also terrible at Quidditch) but eventually followed her siblings and cousin into the sunlight, her hair glinting as she moved.

But then Harry and Hugo's dad sat down to chat about Quidditch and Hermione and Ginny went upstairs, and everything was perfectly normal, and then then there was the sound of them screaming at each other and a bang which made dust float from the ceiling and settle on top of Russet's feathers, and Uncle Harry ran towards Hugo and almost shoved him outside before Apparating upstairs so quickly Hugo didn't even see him disappear.

He never found out what the fight had been about, but he did know that there was a patch on the walls of his parent's room that never retained it's original colour from the blackened and mottled shade it was now, almost as if someone had thrown a bucket of coal at it.

Also, he saw the Potters a lot less after that.

Then, one evening, his parents had another massive fight- something about quality family time- and Hermione hugged Hugo and said she was sorry, and climbed into the muggle car she'd bought five years ago - _in case,_ she'd said at the time, and he'd had never asked what for - and drove off into the night leaving a confused and lonely Hugo behind.

He never found out where she went, but he could guess. Oh, he could guess.

By the time Hugo was thirteen, he'd got used to being by himself.

His parents argued more and more, Hermione leaving for short periods had almost become a habit – which the whole family hated, albeit for different reasons - and the whole time Rose was home she was tight-lipped and stressing far too much over her OWLs, and when their mum was home she would be rushing over to help her daughter study and consider subject options and Ron would appear in the evenings and then things would grow far too awkward.

He wasn't completely friendless. He knew some people - the Potters, although Harry and Ginny had grown apart from Hugo's parents a little and it rubbed off on their kids - and all his other cousins, and at home there were always Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, Aunt Luna's toddlers. And he had his- albeit never there- sister.

But, although he was a classified weirdo, he didn't exactly have enemies. He mostly stayed out of the Gryffindor-Slytherin wars… apart from when James made him join in.

But James was leaving, and also, with Scorpius Malfoy flatly refusing to play the game any longer, it had kind of drifted into an unsung pause.

That didn't mean things were any better at home, though.

Sometimes, mainly when Hugo's father wasn't around, Hermione would go out to see a 'friend' and return with glowing cheeks and a distant smile that lit up the whole house for days.

Hugo wondered how much that happened when he and Rose were at school. He thought probably quite a lot.

He knew his mother felt guilty that she was never really there. She tried to take him out one day, to a fancy restaurant just off Diagon Alley, filled with the elite and rich and famous.

It wasn't Hugo's kind of thing, but he knew she was making an effort to do something nice for him, so he smiled and listened politely while she rambled a little about her old school days.

Then he noticed Draco Malfoy for the first time in several months, sitting alone at a table quite near them, drinking wine with a distant look on his face like he hadn't noticed them.

Hermione saw him too, and she faltered in her tales of Uncle George and his brother Fred, who had died before Hugo had known him, and Hugo tactfully got up and pretended to go to the toilet- but not fast enough to miss seeing Hermione jump up and run towards Draco Malfoy's table, the two of them hugging each other like old friends.

And Hugo decided that appeared to be a pretty accurate description for them now.

At least, he hoped it was just that.

By the time Rose was seventeen and studying feverishly for her NEWTs, and Hugo was fifteen and had kissed Lily Potter - only once – their father was almost never around, and Hermione was sad and stressed, and he never really saw his sister either as she was always achieving some award for something academic.

Hugo found it okay. He had a lot more time to notice things.

But, eventually, when he noticed Draco Malfoy arriving on their own doorstep, right below Hugo's _room,_ one evening and whirling his mother away, he realised that things weren't really okay at all.

Hugo was reading a book.

It was a good book – about dragon hunters in the Middle Ages who fought wars and were heroes – but his head felt a little funny, like it was stuffed with cotton wool and floating away. The words were scrambled around, tiny black ants on a sea of white, and jumping all over each other haphazardly, with no real order at all, too the point where Hugo wondered whether he had that Muggle problem- dyslexia- and had to look away from the book.

But he could still see the pieces in his mind's eye - a sea of chaos and unhappiness where nothing made sense and fathers hit mothers and mothers fell in love with other men and nothing happened like it was meant to.

Hugo did not see how his life was fortunate at all.

Draco Malfoy and his mother had established themselves as friends.

The problem was, Hugo did like Draco. He could be sardonic (a word Rose liked using) and dry at times, but he was funny and reasonably kind and he made Hermione happier than Hugo had seen her in years.

Also, Ron was there less and less, his Quidditch career escalating into a pit he was desperately trying to salvage it from, and Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry hadn't been round in ages.

Hugo got used to doing things for himself.

But, on Christmas Eve, five years since this had all begun, when his sister was at a friend's and Ron was still at work and Hermione was nowhere to be found, Hugo sat down on a chair next to the empty wooden table, staring at the corner which was _supposed to have a Christmas tree in it_ , and family sitting around it and luaghing, together and not arguing at all, and finally, he cried.

"Hey!"

Hugo spun around in the corridor leading towards the Potions classroom, to see a couple of bulky older Slytherin kids standing there with big, stupid grins on their faces.

Hugo was small, to put it bluntly. He had been prematurely born and had never quite recovered from his unfortunate toddlerhood as a scrawny and seemingly impermanent baby, and at the age of thirteen he was still far shorter than you would expect someone his age to be. It was as if his head was stubbornly resting on the 140cm mark, and it was this that caused a lot of people to notice him. Unfortunately.

Before he knew it, they were mere metres in front of him.

"Looks like a first year, don' he?" Ogre #1 said, looking pleased with his own incredible wit. "I wonder if he's had ini- inititaton yet?"

His friends gave deep, throaty laughs.

Hugo's eyes flicked between them. "Shouldn't you have someone telling you what to do?" he asked slowly. "I wasn't aware it was the new fashion for Incredible Hulk models to walk around without some kind of scrawny leader."

Ogre #2 looked confused. "Incredibly what?" he asked dumbly.

"It's probably a mudblood thing," Ogre #3, who up until that point had been fairly silent, spoke up, his voice like nails trailing down a blackboard and forgetting where to go halfway down.

Ogre #2, bored already, grabbed Hugo with ease and led the stampede towards the boy's toilets.

Hugo kicked out, but it was about as much use as attacking a brick wall.

"Ha," said Ogre #3, leering without opening his mouth.

The one dragging Hugo yanked on his tie. "Come on."

Coughing and spluttering, Hugo twisted around with difficulty and dug his feet into the ground. "Can you guys not do magic or something?" he asked, stalling for time as he had no particular urge to get his head dunked into toilet water. "That would be quicker, you know."

"Get 'im to shuddup," Ogre #1 grunted.

Ogre #3, the most literate of the trio, looked towards Ogre #2, who promptly raised his fist above Hugo's stomach.

Wincing, Hugo attempted to squirm away, but then-

"What the hell are you doing to my little brother?" asked a furious voice. "Petrificus totalus! Impedimenta! Furnunculus! Relashio!"

All three were thrown back, skidding onto the ground as the sound of running footsteps echoed down the hall. "Hugo! Are you okay?"

Hugo rolled his eyes and moved out of his sister Rose's grip. "M'okay, you can let go…"

He glanced down at the three Slytherins. "Better than those guys, anyway. I think that one might be turning into a living fungus, though. Although you might want to do something to the third one… I think he'd trying to get up."

Calmly, Rose pointed her wand at him. "Levicorpus."

He was suddenly jerked into the air with the speed of a clumsy viper.

Rose collected all of their wands and left them clamly in a heap just out of their reaches. "Hmm. What were you doing so close to Jerk Site HQ alone?"

Hugo rolled his eyes. "Rose, I'm thirteen. I can look after myself."

"Didn't look like it," she muttered, dusting off her robes. "Are you going to say thank you? Otherwise you might not get so lucky next time."

"Thanks," Hugo said honestly. "Wait… Rose…"

"Mmm?"

"You did magic in the corridors."

"Yeah," she gave a wry smile. "Even Mum did that occasionally."

"But they'll find out when these guys wake up. The teachers, I mean."

"I'm not going to obliviate them. They might forget their lesson. If I get told off I'll say I was protecting my baby brother."

"I'm not that much younger than you," Hugo grinned and headed off down the corridor, feeling – inexplicably – happier than he had done in ages.

 **Hey :) How did you like it? Please review! I don't mind if you thought it was terrible, but I would prefer constructive criticism to flames :)**

 **If you did like it, it would be great if you could check out my Percy Jackson/ Harry Potter crossover Persassy the Professor, or even any of my other PJO, Kane Chronicles and Maze Runner fanfictions.**

 **Also, this will probably end up as Dramione, but not Hermione-centric. Hugo remains the main character here.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Heya :) So, sorry about the break. I was going through a mind blank phase, but I'm back now…**

 **Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed, favourited or followed the first chapter:**

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 **It makes me SO HAPPY when anyone reviews, favourites, or follows this story. I mean, it would be nice if you could review, but I appreciate not everyone wants to, but it would be great if you could show some sign of support :)**

 **Disclaimer: It's this really strange thing, but my name ISN'T JK Rowling.**

 **Hugo**

When Hugo turned fourteen, and the arguments came so fast and so thickly that he found each one indistinguishable from each other, and they'd been there so long he'd forgotten what it was like without them, he found a new hobby.

His mother bought him a box of watercolours from a Muggle shop as part of his birthday present, and Hugo instantly loved them. He wasn't really trying to paint anything in particular – just messing around, experimenting, and then he decided to draw the view from his dormitory window.

The painting took him a long time – there was so much blue and grey and green involved, but he liked it. It took his mind off other things, and he could sit there when he had free time, piles of homework neglected or poorly done, and he could paint the landscape.

When he went home, he put a permanent sticking charm on the back of the piece of paper and hung it on his wall with a faint feeling of pride in his accomplishment.

He decided later that there was too much blue in the sky.

Christmas came and went without event, and Rose went through a phase where she got a nose stud and a small tattoo with her Muggle friends, and started a trend throughout Hogwarts – except for the stalwart pureblood Slytherins – and Hugo kept to himself more than ever, speaking only to his childhood friends, never raising his hand in class, and generally failing all of his subjects.

Five years ago, maybe, his mother would have been distressed, shocked, even, tried to help him all she could to boost his grades and demanded to know why he wasn't being helped.

Five years ago.

But today wasn't five years ago, and now Hermione was far too wrapped up in her own problems – with Ron and with her job and with Draco Malfoy, who she was seeing more frequently every day.

Hugo was tired of it.

Easter was marked in his mind by Rose bursting into his room, plonking herself down on his bed with less of her vibrant, everlasting energy than usual, and demanding to be told what was wrong.

"Hey, Hugo," she said, softly. "You can always trust me, you know. No matter how bad things are at home.

Hugo glanced over at her from his perch by the window, turning his head slightly. "You removed your nose stud," he said in surprise.

Rose nodded impatiently. "And the tattoo. Decided it was tacky. Besides, maybe it'll alert the rest of the school that we look like a progressive academy for children with problems with the current fashion trend."

"But you can't do that without leaving some kind of scar…" he trailed off.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Ever heard of magic? But you're dodging the question!" she looked almost like a petulant kid. "Hugo, there's something wrong."

 _The whole world is wrong,_ he wanted to say. _Or my whole world, anyway. Have you really not noticed our family has fallen apart?_

But, instead, he gave a mute shrug. "I'm fine, Ro. Really. And I think it's cool you dropped the nose stud thing."

"Stop it, Hugo!" she yelled suddenly. "I'm not blind! I know what's going on! I'm trying to help, here! Do you really think I don't know that Mum is seeing some fancy blond dude? Or that Dad hits her, however much 'by accident'? I'm not stupid! Just because I'm not as cool as you, with your 'I'm a loner, don't approach me' shit and all that, doesn't mean I don't have feelings too!"

Hugo stared openmouthed. "Rose, I-"

"I'm sorry," she said with a small sob. "I'm sorry, sorry. Hugo… sorry…" she kept repeating it, like a mantra that would make all the bad things go away.

Awkwardly, Hugo got up from his seat by the window, getting up and crossing the room, steps as heavy as if he was just learning to walk and everything was fresh and okay still. He put his arm around his sister, for once, and for once, she didn't effortlessly shrug it away.

Eventually, her heaving sobs stopped, and she gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks."

"No problem," Hugo said. They sat there in companionable silence for nearly an hour, and he was just drifting off to sleep when he remembered. "Ro?"

"Mmm?" she asked drowsily.

"Do you seriously think I'm cool?"

"Everyone does," she said matter-of-factly. "Everyone with a brain, anyway. Which is more people than you'd think."

"I don't," he said. "Does that mean I don't have a brain?"

It wasn't even a particularly good joke, but they both broke into hysteric giggles for some reason, until pearly tears were running down both of their cheeks and then

Hugo fell asleep.

Hermione and Ron were standing in front of the kitchen, holding a fierce argument by the burning fireplace. Flames shot up and down like sparks off a firework, flying haphazardly out of the grate.

"Ron, please stop it!"

"I won't!" Hugo's father yelled, face as glowing a shade of red as his hair. "Malfoy! For Merlin's sake, _Malfoy!_ He's a Death Eater! He's a cowardly arsehole! He called you a Mudblood! He nearly killed Dumbledore! He _watched_ as Bellatrix Lestrange-" he broke off, face contorting in rage. "I can't believe you would do this to me! With _him!"_

"Draco and I are just friends-"

" _Draco darling,"_ Ron snarled. "Friends? As in with benefits, or the kind of _friend_ you've been to me? Because neither are great options, Hermione."

"Ron, I-"

"What about the kids?" Ron burst out. "I thought you were supposed to be the clever one! What's going to happen to them, when you go gallivanting off with _Draco darling_ and I'm left by myself with a full-time career?"

Hermione's eyes were narrowed to slits with anger. "Precisely. A full-time career! You never see them, Ron! When was the last time you even ate one meal with your family? We don't even see Harry and Ginny any more! Don't you dare say I neglect our children, Ronald Weasley, because I have been more of a parent to them than you ever have!"

"You bitch-!"

"Stop pretending you're so virtuous, because your lies are so fake I think you could have pretended to be Voldemort better than this screen you're trying to put on."

"Well, you're the one that's going to run off with Draco darling and desert your family, sweetheart." Ron finished sarcastically. "That's demonstrating incredible honesty and morals."

"That was never my intention," Hermione whispered sadly. "But it seems that's what you think of me,"

"I don't know what to think!" Ron exploded, before he finally sank down onto the edge of an armchair. "Mione, can't we fix this? We can figure something out – maybe we can get marriage counselling, or-"

"I'm sorry, Ron, but it's too late for that," Hermione said with tears falling freely down her cheeks. "We can't go back. Maybe you're right – maybe I should leave. God knows I'm an awful parent."

"Hermione-" Ron looked at her with broken eyes. "Please don't-"

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Hermione murmured. "I'm going now."

But, clutching the bannisters tightly like he used to do when he was little, Hugo had heard everything.

"You're not going!" he called, running down the stairs and bursting through the open kitchen door.

His parents froze, expressions of horrible, heart-breaking guilt plastered all over their faces.

"Mum, please," Hugo said, his voice rising an octave. In desperation, he pulled out his wand from his pyjama sleeve and extended a shaking arm towards them warningly. "Please."

Hermione's mouth dropped open; Ron was petrified with surprise as surely as if the stare of a Basilisk had landed upon him.

"Hugo?" Hermione murmured. "But you were in bed…"

The flames in the grate leapt higher, as if to accentuate her point.

"Mum, you can't leave," Hugo said desperately. "You have to stay, please."

He was aware that he sounded like he was four rather than fourteen, but at that point he didn't really care.

His wand wavered in his hand. "Mum…"

She gave a trembling sob and shook her head like a dog with water in its ears. "No… what's happened… how has it gone this far?"

Hugo's heart cracked almost audibly, and he let out a silent scream. The house shook; the flames flickered and leapt in the grate as if they were alive, twice the normal height; and then it went too far.

An audible boom echoed across the room, accompanied by the sizzling of the fire, and Hermione's eyes widened in shock.

She leapt towards him, calling something incoherent; Ron was frantically looking for his wand; and then Hugo's vision turned red and

he

was

falling

into

nothing

- _break-ten years later-_

Hugo and Rose were standing five feet apart.

Of course, Hugo had no idea if it was actually five feet or not, but during the ten minutes or so they'd stood in stony silence so far, he had had time to conclude it was a fairly reasonable approximation.

He figured it was probably the closest they'd been in exactly ten years anyway, since Hermione died in the fire he'd started.

 _Accidental magic,_ the Healers had said afterwards in a vague attempt at sympathy. _It wasn't your fault…_

But it had been, and Hugo knew it had been, and that made it ten times worse. Knowing he'd killed his mother.

Ron had stuck around until Rose's graduation, and then made his excuses and left in a guilty attempt to escape all that had happened. He moved to America, got a new life commentating on Quidditch.

Hugo blamed him, but only for making him blame himself.

Rose started a new life in London, married an ex-Ravenclaw from the year above and had one child – a baby girl named Harmony for her grandmother – so close, but not the same.

Meanwhile, Hugo passed a couple of NEWTs – Magical Arts and Ancient Runes – and left school to start a career in designing protective runes and artwork. He saw his sister at Christmas and occasionally when there was no one else to babysit for her- and on this day, the anniversary of their mother's death.

But he spent his whole life wondering.

He wondered if Draco Malfoy knew how Hugo's mother had died. He wondered if he cared.

He decided he probably did.

He wondered if he would have been closer to Rose if the accident hadn't happened, or if they would have drifted away anyway.

He _knew_ he would have had less regrets.

His life was a series of long and painful regrets that he would never move out of. But he could try to make it happier.

Hugo glanced up at where his sister stood, reading the inscription on the grave. The shiny white marble shimmered as if the occupant had died only yesterday.

Yes, ten years ago could have been yesterday.

Tentatively, Hugo crossed those few steps – just five feet, or maybe a little less, he mused – and put his arm around Rose's shoulder.

For once, she didn't shrug it off – she was crying, he realised. And so was he. There was no one left to say it would be okay; and, anyway, he knew it wasn't guaranteed. It had never been guaranteed, from the moment Hermione and Ron had first argued.

Ron wasn't standing at Hermione's grave. Neither was Draco Malfoy.

But Hugo was, and as the salty water rolled off his cheeks and onto his neck, leaving a glistening trail of vapour, he realised Rose was, and she didn't blame him. Didn't blame him for the accidental magic that had caused the fire that had killed Hermione, hit by falling debris as Ron desperately put up shields… but not fast enough to protect himself and Hermione and an unconscious Hugo.

Lost in thought, he dimly realised Rose had stopped crying.

"You know," she murmured faintly, "I never blamed you. I think I was… jealous, in some kind of messed-up, crazy way. That you were the one who saw her and Dad last."

"Dad's not dead," Hugo protested, head reeling.

Rose laughed bitterly. "He may as well be. He abandoned us… left us alone. Stupid, really, that I can't forgive him for that."

"I think… I understand," Hugo said quietly. And he did.

They stood there, lost in thought, until the sun sank beneath the horizon casting shining orange rays across the graveyard, a gentle wind stirring and whipping Rose's hair gently.

Hugo stared out across the shadowy landscape and waited for tomorrow, when maybe his shattered world could finally begin to mend.

 **So… I think this will be the last chapter. It was a two-shot after all.**

 **Like, you'd think I'd have to be listening to depressing music or something to write this, but actually I finished it off screaming terrible songs at the top of my lungs like a very sane person.**

 **Hopefully it didn't show. I don't think it did?**

 **Thanks, once again, to everyone who so much as read this story, because you guys are all great. And the people who reviewed, foll… I can't be bothered to write it all out, but you guys… are even better.**

 **Please review!**

 **~thaliatheawesome**


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